


Reaching Homes

by Lumelle



Series: Contractual Obligations [10]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Dreamwalking, F/M, Gigolas Week, Homesickness, Loneliness, M/M, Valinor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 05:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1214152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While relieved to see Legolas's happiness in the Undying Lands, and feeling surprisingly welcomed by the elves, Gimli does occasionally feel lonely as the only dwarf in Valinor. Thankfully, Thranduil will not see his son suffer for Gimli's unhappiness, and more importantly has knowledge of a solution. Gimli meets Tauriel, Tauriel has an impossible visitor, and Gimli might yet get to hear familiar voices booming under stone without having to leave his beloved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaching Homes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Gigolas Week](http://gigolasweek.tumblr.com/), the prompt "Undying Lands".

As they arrived in Valinor, dressed in all the finery befitting their station, they were greeted by nothing but elves.

It was not much of a surprise, really, not after so long, but Gimli had to confess to some sorrow when he did not see anyone small and barefooted among the people gathered on the shore to welcome him. He was soon swept away with much to think of, of course, with elves wondering at the sight of a dwarf, and then even more as he was greeted personally by Lady Galadriel. Her beauty was still unrivaled, her hand soft upon his as she welcomed him in the Undying Lands, and already he could feel his worries starting to lift.

Legolas had many familiar faces to greet him, yet Gimli did not need be alone. Elrond met him gladly, though he, too, wondered at the grace of Valar for having given him leave to cross the sea. It was from him that Gimli heard news of his hobbit friends. Bilbo, he was told, had passed away in his sleep not long after his arrival on the shores, while Frodo had held on until the arrival of his friend Sam. Some three years after Sam's arrival, the two had set out on a walk and never returned. Elrond's belief, and that of others, was that they had made their journey to the Halls of Mandos together.

Gimli was glad to hear that they had found peace, after all their troubles, yet he couldn't help but worry for Bilbo. The old hobbit had passed on, yes, yet nobody could give Gimli an answer as to where. While it may have seemed inconsequential to the elves, for Gimli it was a matter of happiness, and not solely Bilbo's or his own.

There was little to be had in the way of answers, though. All he could do was accept all the warm welcomes and set about making his new life with Legolas.

At first that was more than enough to distract him. He was old and his eyes were failing, yet he was not old enough that he might not have been of any use. Together with Legolas he constructed a home for them, a wooden hall covering the entrance to an old cave. It was not as grand as he might have liked to present to his beloved, but it was passable, and they had time to make it as elaborate as they wished. For now, it was enough to have a home to share between them.

Of course, once their home was finished and all they had to do was spend their days as they pleased, with no distraction of labor or planning, the loneliness of his situation hit home harder.

Legolas had little trouble adapting to their new surroundings; while he, too, missed their lost friends, with them as the only ones remaining of the Fellowship, he was surrounded by kith and kin everywhere. Though they had taken their time to construct their home, Legolas was still often greeted by old friends he had not seen since Arda. Sometimes he joined them on some journey, to hunt or to wander in the forest, and while sometimes Gimli went along with him, other times he sat back and smoked his pipe while contemplating the next corner of the cave to be carved into proper shape. He was not as fit as he had once been, and for all that he loved Legolas he only had limited patience for hearing a bunch of elves prattle on about this beautiful flower or that verdant leaf dancing in the breeze.

On such occasions, he felt terribly, achingly alone.

He had no regrets, of course. Staying with Legolas, not being separated from his One, was worth all the pain and sorrow in the world, and his burden was not nearly that. He was not alone by any means; he was making friends even with elves other than Legolas, and Lady Galadriel often graced him with glad conversation, or Gandalf joined him for a pipe, elves having little care for such things. And truly, he knew he had friends and company. It wasn't something he worried about, not when he wandered in the wilderness with Legolas, not when he held his beloved close at night.

Sometimes, though, all the elves in the world could not overcome his longing for a happily bellowed greeting in the tones of Ereborean khudzûl and a full tankard of good dwarven ale.

His longings were understandable, he figured, though he still would not share them with Legolas. It would have only worried the elf, and that would not have done. After all, he never wanted Legolas to think he wasn't happy with him. And he was, happy beyond belief, and even more so when Legolas once again found color in his hair, his body growing stronger again into his old prime. He would stand beside his elf until the remaking of Arda, the Valar willing, and then beyond into the new world.

And then he was invited to the halls of the Elvenking.

*

It was far from the first time Gimli had met Thranduil since reaching the West. They had gone to greet him soon after their arrival, expecting the careful civility that had colored Gimli's interactions with the Elvenking before the king had sailed. This had been thrown to the wind as they were instead both drawn into ready embraces by Legolas's mother, a golden-haired beauty who did not seem to hesitate for a moment before accepting a dwarf as the lover of her son. She had insisted that Gimli accompanied Legolas on all of his visits, and though Thranduil's attitude had never shifted from weary tolerance, he did not doubt his welcome in their halls.

Now, though, Legolas was not here, nor was his mother. He was brought into Thranduil's throne room alone. It was less magnificent than what he had commanded back in Mirkwood, but it still managed to be somewhat imposing.

Good thing he knew a thing or two about staying calm in the face of imposing situations.

"King Thranduil." He made a small bow. "I was told you wished to see me." No, Thranduil was not his king, but it would have been quite dishonorable not to hold any respect for the father of his One.

"Indeed." Thranduil looked at him for a moment without a word. Then, just as Gimli was about to ask him why he had been sent for, the elf spoke. "You are unhappy."

Gimli blinked. "I beg your pardon?" That was not true, not by any measure. He was happier than he had any right to be, truly, with Legolas at his side and countless years before them, and he told Thranduil as much.

"Oh, I do not doubt that. It is clear enough in your eyes whenever you look at him." Again, Thranduil paused. "You told me you will not pass from this world."

"That is my hope, yes." He refused to flinch under the cool eyes. "Not that I have proof, but I have been growing stronger, not more weary, and if it would take my own will to pass, well, then I shall never go beyond, not ere the remaking of the world."

"I spoke with the Lady Galadriel." Thranduil's eyes flitted somewhere far away from him. "She told me of your little scheme, with you and the hobbit."

Despite himself, Gimli shivered. It was clear enough Thranduil had some scheme of his own in his mind; however, without knowing its nature, he could not decide whether it would be to his joy or ruin. Thranduil had declared he would not separate Legolas from his beloved, but Gimli doubted he was someone Thranduil would have chosen for his son.

"There is a vale not far from here," Thranduil said then, and the sudden change of subject startled Gimli. "Someone called Tauriel resides there; Legolas will know who I speak of. I am sure he would be delighted to visit her, for they were old friends."

Gimli gave a slow nod. "I know of Tauriel," he said. "She saved the younger prince, for what good it did." Saved from the morgul poison only to perish in the battle. Such a sad fate Kíli had been dealt.

"Indeed she did." There was something indecipherable in Thranduil's expression, but then, that was more or less his default state. "Take Legolas to see her, and when you do, ask her if she would share some news about her guest."

"Her guest?" Gimli frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"She will know what you mean. And if she pretends otherwise, tell her she was seen near the stream." Thranduil's lips twitched, just the slightest bit. "I believe there was a tattoo of a raven involved."

Tattoo of a raven. That certainly was familiar enough to Gimli. He had marveled at one such picture, fingertips hovering just above the freshly healed skin, admiring the deep black on his distant cousin's pale skin.

Could Tauriel truly have chosen to adorn herself in such a manner in remembrance of Kíli?

"And why should I make such an inquiry?" Because still, he knew there was something Thranduil was scheming, here.

"Because you are unhappy, for all that my son brings you happiness. And if you were to smile more, it would bring him similar sentiments." Thranduil let his fingers trace the arm of his throne, the very image of relaxation. "I still do not like dwarves, Gimli son of Glóin, but you make my son happy, and for that you have won my favor. Fret not, for I would not lead you to such a fate that it would deprive Legolas of the one who makes his heart sing."

"I shall trust your words, then, Thranduil Elvenking." Gimli made for a short bow. "Even if you insist on not having me know what I am walking into."

"Oh, believe me, I have little doubt you will find joy quite unexpected." And that, apparently, was all the hint he was going to get of whatever was in store for him.

Confound these elves and their mysterious ways.

*

At the first mention of the name of Tauriel, Legolas was ready to go. His eagerness almost startled Gimli; even with all the long-lost friends and relatives, there were none others he had been quite so happy to seek out. Legolas must have noticed his surprise, for he was quick to explain.

"Tauriel was my friend, and the closest I ever had to a sister," he told Gimli, a fond look in his eyes as though thinking back to some pleasant memory. "She was raised in my father's court and was the best in our guard. I — I thought I loved her, for a time; I was quite jealous of your young prince."

"Is that so." Gimli couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. It wasn't often you found your love, your husband, speak so of another.

"I was wrong, of course. All I felt was a fleeting fancy born out of the much deeper bonds of friendship." Legolas shook his head, sighing. "After the prince fell in battle, she barely lingered a year before she set sail for the West. I had wondered where she settled here."

"Well, now we know the direction to seek her in," Gimli said, "and yet I find myself wondering if it were a good idea at all."

"Oh, Gimli, beloved, do not fret." Legolas's hand ran along the side of his face, slim fingers burying themselves in his beard, marveling at the few strands of reddish brown he could now again find there. "Do you know what I remember of her above all, other than her skill at a bow?"

"I wouldn't presume to know."

"Her red hair." Legolas smiled. "At the time, I wondered how one as beautiful as she would find any fondness in her for a dwarf. And here, I find myself equally smitten, and I was ensnared by another mass of fire and flame set into soft strands."

"Careful there, elf, I might start to think you a poet." Nevertheless, Gimli smiled behind the cover of his beard. Perhaps he would dare see this Tauriel with the elf after all.

She was easy enough to find, for all that the directions given by Thranduil were vague at best. Once they located the vale indicated, it was easy to make their way to the small dwelling in the middle, an airy little elven home for an airy little elf. Not that they made their way to the house, not at first; before they got even close, a slim, graceful figure was approaching them, long hair flowing in the wind.

"Legolas!" She was a fair woman, Tauriel, just as Gimli had heard time and time again; Bofur's tale had been much sought after, with him being one of two dwarven survivors of the ruin of Laketown, and Gimli had heard more often than he could count about the beautiful elf with red hair and pity in her heart for an injured prince. And here she was, the Tauriel of tales, throwing her arms around his elf in delight.

Careful, Gimli. No cause for you to get jealous.

"Tauriel," Legolas laughed, grasping her by the waist and spinning her about. "It has been far too long, my friend."

"Not by fault of mine, my prince." Tauriel laughed as well as she was set back on her feet, and Gimli fought against any jealousy. "You seem older, though I doubt that much time had passed."

"Not two hundred years since you left, but much has happened." Legolas brushed a strand of hair behind her pointy little ear. "It will be a lengthy tale, I fear."

"Well, I have little else but time." It seemed she now noticed Gimli at last, for she blinked, staring. "Is this…"

"This, Tauriel, is my husband." Legolas stepped closer, setting a hand on Gimli's shoulder, which he accepted with grim satisfaction. "Gimli, son of Glóin, a dwarf of Erebor and my chosen."

"Lady Tauriel." His bow was perhaps more curt than necessary, but at least he was not seething his jealousy for all to hear. "I have heard much of you from my kin."

"Your kin?" She blinked again, and then realization dawned on her fair face. "Oh! So you must be…"

"Of the line of Durin, yes. My father was one of those imprisoned in your halls."

"And to think Legolas chided me for finding a dwarf pleasant to look at." She chuckled, but Gimli supposed he could forgive her, considering she was speaking of how very much not attracted to Legolas she was. "But… how are you here?"

"I've made some trades and earned favors," Gimli replied. "I'm here by leave of Lady Galadriel, to spend the rest of my days beside my beloved."

"…You are a fortunate one." And though she was smiling, there was sorrow in her eyes as he looked into them.

Perhaps he could find it in his heart to forgive her.

She led them to her house, then, offering refreshments while Legolas recounted their quest, Gimli only intervening when the elf was clearly misremembering something. Otherwise he stayed quiet, until at one point Legolas had volunteered himself to go get more wine for them all.

"I was told by Thranduil where to find you," he said. "He told me to ask about your guest by the stream."

Tauriel seemed startled, but then relaxed. "I suppose it should be no surprise that his eyes would have found me out," she said. "Very well. There is little I could tell you that you would believe, but if you would, come see me two days from now. Without Legolas, if you can manage; while I would have no such secrets from him, I would rather not startle my guest, and he might not react well to such intrusion."

"And are you going to give me any explanation to the identity of this guest?" Of course not. Elves lived on air and fairy dust and being mysterious.

And indeed, Tauriel merely smiled at him. "Two nights from now, Master Dwarf," was all she said.

*

It was surprisingly easy to slip away without Legolas. In fact, he did not even have to do a thing. Some of Legolas's old friends from Mirkwood arrived, bidding him to join them on a hunt, and Gimli waved them off with the excuse of stretching his legs at a more leisurely pace. After all, his ax was not well suited for hunts, for all that he was sure he could have kept pace with the elves for the duration of a day. Legolas accepted this easily, kissing him goodbye in that surprisingly tender way of his, and ran off into the green.

Gimli looked after him for a moment, stuffed and lit his pipe, and set out toward Tauriel's vale.

The day was near noon as he arrived, sun bathing the little valley in bright colors and bird song. It was almost relaxing, walking downhill toward Tauriel's house, enjoying the sunshine upon his face. Just because he was a dwarf did not mean he could not enjoy the fresh air, and the golden hair of Legolas had taught him much about loving the sun.

Not like he had much of an alternative, anyway, save for hiding away in the deepest rooms of his house.

Tauriel was not outside this time, and thus there was nobody to greet him. Nearing the small house, he wondered if he should make his presence known, but this turned out to be unnecessary.

"Pipeweed?" The familiar voice from long ago made him freeze. "Who here smokes pipeweed? I thought elves cared little for that."

"I suppose that would mean there is someone to see you." Tauriel's voice, though tinged with amusement, carried with it a somewhat nervous air as well. "Come, let's go outside to greet them."

Gimli stayed rooted to place as surely as though his legs had been tree trunks sprung up from the ground. Thus he stood right where he had been, pipe still to his lips, as the door to Tauriel's house swung open to reveal a figure he had near forgotten.

"Kíli." The pipe fell away from his fingers, but that was of little consequence right now. "But — you're dead!"

"And who're you?" Here stood Kíli, once prince of Erebor, looking barely older than when Gimli had last seen him go, full of anticipation for his great adventure. His hair was still a mess and his beard barely there, a bright smile on his face. "I'll say, I never thought I'd run into a dwarf here, never mind one who knows me without me returning the favor!"

"Oh, you knew me, once upon a time," Gimli replied, somewhat amazed to find so many words at once. "As I recall, you promised me stories when I was too young to join the Company."

"Gimli?" Kíli's eyes widened, and then he was surging forward, embracing him as though they had only parted yesterday. "Oh, it is Gimli all right, the little lad! My, but you've grown!"

"Well, it has been quite some time since then," Gimli said, arms reaching around his cousin in return. "Long enough that my beard is white, and is now getting red again."

"And a mighty beard it is! I'm quite jealous, little cousin." Kíli grinned. "I did hear you would be headed here, but I didn't quite believe it."

"You heard of it?" Gimli blinked. "How so?" And yet, hope was starting to surge in his heart.

"Oh, Uncle Bilbo wasted no time in informing us." His grin got wider. "So you fell for an elven prince, did you?"

"And Thranduil's son at that." Gimli found himself returning the grin. "Aye, and found happiness with him, but I will not lie and say it is not a relief to see you."

"Well, come on inside! You must have plenty to tell."

Tauriel did not seem to mind the repeat of the tale at her table, though at some points she did interject where his telling was too different from the story Legolas had laid out for her. Kíli seemed to take this at a stride, as he had ever done with life. At the end of the tale, he laughed aloud.

"That was a mighty tale! And I can only imagine the look on Thranduil's face. Oh, to have that before me! I'm sure Ori could make me a suitable likeness if I told him that story."

"He's not that bad, for all that Thorin would have my head for saying that, I'm sure," Gimli chuckled. "Sure, he was wary of me at first, but I think it was more his fear that I would leave his son to grieve. Now that it seems I will do no such thing, he has been easier on me." He smirked. "It was he who told me where to find Tauriel and what to ask her, in fact."

"Yes, that much Tauriel did tell me. Makes me shudder, thinking that he might have seen us."

"Thranduil mentioned a raven tattoo," Gimli admitted. "I thought of yours right away, of course, but didn't think for a moment it might be you; way I figured, Tauriel might have taken a mark to remember you by."

"Oh, I was in no danger of forgetting. I had barely made my way West when he came by one day, traipsing right to my front door as though he were not supposed to be dead." Tauriel scoffed, but her eyes were soft. "Always such trouble, you dwarves are."

"See, I don't know what you would have as do. We dwarrows are supposed to stick to our Ones, in life and beyond; it's not our fault if some of you insist on not being there for us to love, and we have to find other ways." Kíli shook his head. "You don't see the rest of us wandering about here, so clearly the fault is with your lot, not us."

"And now, I will wait no longer," Gimli said. "How is it that you can be here? I thought none could leave the Halls until the remaking of the world, or by the leave of Mahal."

Kíli grinned. "You see, there is the beauty of it," he said. "I haven't left, Gimli my lad. My body's still there, safe and sound. This," he gestured at himself, "this is but a dream."

"What?" Gimli blinked. "But — I embraced you. You are as real as I am."

"I didn't mean that I'm your dream. Just that, in the Halls, I'm currently asleep, while I wander here."

"You're able to do that?" It sounded like some strange magic to him. "How?"

"Well, from what I've gathered, these realms are linked somewhat," Kíli said. "And Tauriel held onto a trinket from me; one night, while sleeping in the Halls, I felt a call in my dream. I followed, and the token brought me here."

"He'd given me a bead," Tauriel explained. "I took it with me when I sailed, and I am glad I did; he might not have found me otherwise."

"But here I am." Kíli smiled at her, and it was clear enough he was utterly smitten. Then his expression turned more serious as he looked at Gimli. "It's exhausting to make the journey, more so than if you simply stayed awake the night. For all my love I can't bear to do it every night, not even every other. But every few days, I go to sleep thinking of Tauriel, and then I spend a lovely day here."

"While here, he is as real as any who came over the sea." Tauriel's voice was quiet, her hand resting over Kíli's. "I moved to this place so I would not have so many visitors, because I feared it would anger some to see him wandering about. But if Thranduil knows…"

"Aye, he knows, and has kept your secret," Gimli said. "I cannot claim to know his mind, but I would suppose he saw in you a hope that his son would not be alone even as I passed."

"It still seems strange to imagine he would accept you, when even I was not good enough for his son."

"He thought it better to accept a dwarf as another son than lose the one he already held dear." Gimli hesitated, not sure how to breach the subject, even though he was sure they both were expecting him to. "Could I — do you think I could do the same?"

"You mean, visit the Halls?" Kíli gave him a grin. "I don't see why not, if it works this way. It's worth a try, definitely." He clapped Gimli on the shoulder. "If you'd like, I could take some token from you to the Halls, to guide your way. I've taken small things before, so I know that works."

Gimli was already undoing one of the braids in his beard to hand over the bead at the end, one that he had worn a great number of years. "So I do what? Just go to sleep thinking of the Halls?"

"It's how it works for me, most of the time." Kíli shrugged. "I'm not sure if it'd be easier for you than me, since you now know it's possible. It'd be great if you could visit, though. Your parents have been pretty fretful, wondering how you're doing."

"You could always tell them you had a dream of me here, happy and healthy though I do miss them." Gimli paused. "You know, since I somewhat doubt you've told them you sneak off to see an elf every few nights."

Kíli laughed. "Fíli knows, of course," he said. "I told him the first time I woke up after being here. Uncle Bilbo figured it out, too, and I'm not sure if he's told Uncle Thorin, but far as I know, the others aren't aware."

"They will be, though," Gimli said. "If I do this, they'll want to know how I even thought of such a thing."

Kíli shrugged. "I've been sneaking around long enough," he said. "Besides, if there's anything more scandalous than my going off to see my elf, it's you living with the elves and sneaking back to see us."

"I suppose it would be." Gimli passed his bead to Kíli, then made to get up. "And now, I won't take up any more of your precious time. If this works, I'll see you soon enough anyway."

"And if it doesn't, you can always come by again." Kíli patted his arm. "Maybe bring that elf of yours the next time, hmm? I'd like to see if he's as prissy still as when he hated me for getting Tauriel's interest."

There were many emotions mixed within Gimli's heart, relief and dread and longing and joy, but right then, what came out was laughter.

Oh, but he had missed his cousin, so very badly.

*

Gimli did not tell Legolas, not right away.

It wasn't that he didn't think his beloved could be trusted, or didn't wish to share the story with him. However, for the moment he was still not fully convinced anything had actually happened. All he had in the way of evidence was a bead missing from his beard and a dream that might have as well been a memory. No, he would not tell Legolas until he was certain of the truth.

Even so, for a few days he could not bring himself to try what Kíli had told him. For all that he knew it might not work at first anyway, the thought of going to sleep with such expectations only to wake the next morning with no memory was enough to pain him. He yearned to see his kin, to speak with his parents and those who had long since passed, and if Mahal were to grant him such favor he would have wished for nothing else. However, there was no way to know if he would have the possibility, and the only way to find out was to open himself up to pain and disappointment.

Legolas noted his change in mood, of course, as he was wont to do, and tried to make some careful inquiry. Gimli avoided the questions, only telling him that he had been having a dream that unsettled him. It was true enough; the entire meeting felt like a dream, fleeting more distant with each passing day. And yet he would cling to it, if only for the hint of familiarity and home.

It was a fretful sleep he fell into, four days after his visit, with Legolas's arm around him and the sight of Kíli's grinning, living face in his mind.

And then he was awake, already on his feet, standing in a long hall of stone with the sound of smithy hammers echoing in the distance.

It took Gimli a moment to get his bearings, looking around in the tunnel he did not recognize. Then, however, he felt a slight tug at the back of his mind, as though something were beckoning him. Taking a step, then two, comforted by the feel of solid stone underneath his feet, he set off to find the source of his feeling.

He passed several dwarves on his way, of all sizes and appearances, clad in armor or casual clothing of various styles. Most of them gave him no more than a glance, only looking further if their eyes caught on the distinctly elven braids hidden among his mane of hair. Even so, none of them made to talk with him, continuing on their way instead. Gimli saw no reason to bother such strangers, either, though just being around other dwarves was already lifting his spirits.

The call at the back of his mind brought him through several halls and tunnels, to an area not so close to forges, with the sound of hammers and such tools replaced with song and chatter. As he came to a halt in front of a closed door, his ears picked up the sound of several familiar voices on the other side.

After a moment's hesitation, he knocked on the door.

"Come in!" sounded a voice he could not have forgotten in all his years.

Gimli held back the tears that threatened to rise at the sound of his father, set his hand on the door, and opened it.

The chatter, which had continued on just moments ago, came to a halt. The room was filled with naught but familiar faces; his father and Balin, bent over a gaming board, with Fíli, Kíli, and Ori sitting on the floor with another game, Dwalin and Dori smoking in a corner. Right now, all conversation was gone, their eyes all glued on him.

Kíli was the first to break, rushing to his feet. "Gimli!" he cried out, delight clear in his voice. "You made it!"

That seemed to break whatever reverie they had been caught in, for now everyone rushed to him as one, with pats and embraces and butted heads. Glóin drew him into his arms another time when the others stepped back, tears in his eyes.

"Oh, Gimli my lad, my star," he said, almost choking on a sob. "And I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I thought the same, da. But see, I'm here." He gave them a smile. "I cannot promise to stay, though."

"Nonsense," Dwalin scoffed. "Where else would you go?"

"Back to where I'm supposed to be, of course." Gimli shrugged. "My heart lies in Valinor, in the hands of a very lovely elf, and I must return to him soon. However, I'm glad to be visiting you all."

"This is quite peculiar," Dori said. "I know Bilbo said you had been given permission to sail, but it seems unthinkable a dwarf would ever want to."

"Oh, I don't know." His eyes flicked toward Kíli, who flushed a bit. "I'm sure there's one or two others who would find cause to reach the dwellings of the elves."

"I'd wonder what I did wrong, but obviously you think there's naught amiss." Glóin shook his head. "Come, son, and sit down. Our last news of you are from the time of Dwalin's arrival, and it must have been a while since then."

"Three decades and more," Gimli agreed. "I will tell you anything you'd ask, if in return you'll get me some good ale and perhaps pork. Elves can learn to cook, but they tend towards game and wine, and it seems like ages since I left the tables of the Glittering Caves."

"Ah, yes, my son the Lord." Glóin patted him on the shoulder with a proud grin. "Come, sit, we'll get you enough to eat. You're half the size you were when I left you!"

"But his beard has doubled in turn," Dori chuckled. "It's good to know you haven't become enough of an elf yet to lose that."

"Why would I? Legolas is quite fond of my beard."

Fíli made a choking sound. As Gimli glanced at him, though, he waved a hand. "Oh, it's nothing. Just didn't expect that mental image."

"Indeed." Gimli smirked, giving Kíli a sly glance. "Haven't heard of an elf with a taste for proper beards before, myself."

Kíli huffed, stroking his chin that still held barely more than a stubble. "I'll go get him something to eat," he said, likely to get away from the conversation of elven preferences. "And maybe tell the others? I'm sure everyone'd like to see you again. Thorin won't believe his eyes when he sees you; I know I barely did."

"Really?" Ori tilted his head to the side. "And I thought you didn't look very surprised at all when he came in."

"Indeed." Dwalin raised his eyebrows. "And one would think his greeting was more suitable for someone invited, not an unexpected guest."

Kíli made a soft sound of distress and disappeared, his brother quick on his heels.

Gimli looks after them and grimaces. "Don't be too harsh on the lad," he says, and how odd is it that while he is an old dwarf, his cousins are still barely in their full age? "If it wasn't for him, I would've never found my way for a visit."

"That doesn't exactly make us any less curious." Balin stroked his beard in thought. "Well, there will be plenty of time for explanations once all are here. It would be much easier for you to tell your tale but once, after all."

"Indeed." And while he felt daunted at the prospect of actually having to explain everything to them, to his kin and kith and his king he never saw crowned, at the same time Gimli was glad to be with his kin again, if only for a moment. He knew he had not long, a night's length or less, but even such little time was well worth the exhaustion he had been warned of afterwards.

"You know," Dwalin said, a hint of a smirk on his face, "if the lads have found some way to make visits between here and there, I'm sure Thorin would like to see for himself how good Thranduil's son is to Gimli. I don't think he ever believed our tales of such great love."

…Now why had he missed them, again?


End file.
